Inner Eye
by you-make-my-heart-race
Summary: One Direction/Hunger Games crossover. Five boys meet, all as participants of the 67th Hunger Games. Together, they form a pact stronger than anything else, but how will their alliance end? A story of love, tragedy, and everything in between.
1. Prologue: Forever

**AN: **Hello everyone! I'm sorry the prologue is so short, I promise that the forthcoming chapters will not be nearly this short. They'll be around 2k+ words. I hope you enjoy.

Ask nearly any parent, and they'll remember their child's firsts. From their first breath, marking their baby's entrance into this dysfunctional world, to their first steps, first words, first day of school. These precious milestones give the parents moments to reminisce on, beautiful moments that they'll never forget. But despite all these firsts, most parents don't get to see their children's lasts. Last words, last breathes, the closing parentheses of life and how we finish it just like we started it. It's probably better off that way.

No parent wants to watch their child die before their eyes, especially in such a gruesome manner.

In the despicable nation of Panem, our government exploits this fear of watching your children perish. It used to be certain that your offspring outlived you, but these days, you can never count on it. The Hunger Games reiterate the fact that, compared to the Capitol, we are powerless. They remind us that if we hit and try to destroy evil, evil will hit us back ten times harder. Evil won't only kill us, but also the people that matter more to us, more than the world itself. __Our children. __

By the time that I have children myself, I pray to see a world without this revolting event happening every year. But then again, I probably won't live to have children.

My name is Zayn Malik, and I am from District 12. I am a tribute for this year's 67th Hunger Games. _I am prepared to die._


	2. Chapter 1: Odds

_POV: Harry Styles_

"_May the odds be ever in your favor!" _The words rang in my ears as we pulled out of the station. Oh, were they ever. I chuckled quietly to myself as the train rushed away from District 9, leaving my home in the dust. The past few hours were an absolute blur of shock, tears, denial, and finally, the abandonment of what used to be my world. My denial finally faded as I walked into the luxurious chambers of the tribute train. The realization that this was truly happening settled in. My mum's last words to me began to replay, like the soundtrack to my funeral. "Stay strong, Hazza. You have one thing they can't take away, and it is my hope for you. You'll make it out okay." I wanted to tell her that I really think I won't make it out, but I knew I couldn't push her over the edge.

My mum and I held a far closer relationship than most families in District 9. I held back my tears and hugged her tightly as I gave her one last kiss on the cheek, after which the Peacekeepers took her and my sister, Gemma, away. No matter what my mum may think, I'm not really fit to fight others to the death. I'm can't exactly bake others to their demise, or distract them with a fantastic loaf of bread. The competition, some of them have been training for this their whole lives. Where have I been? Working in a tiny bakery. _I'm hopeless._

I took off my loose, tear-stained olive green t-shirt and sat down on the edge of my the bed. It was comfortable, far more comfortable than I'm used to. I gazed around the setting, amazed by all the technology that currently was in the reach of my own fingertips. My home wasn't known for being the richest in Panem, not at all. We're relatively poor, but we have it better off than a lot of people. We're still alive, for now at least. Even then, I've never been in a room as impressive as this one. I may as well enjoy it while I can, since we'll be arriving in the Capitol in less than a day. I ventured into the bathroom, in awe of the shower and all its options. _Hot and cold running water? Thirty different shampoos and soaps? _This was a new experience for me. I took off the rest of my clothes and proceeded to take a shower. I've only had a shower a couple of times before, since we're generally limited to baths, or cleaning ourselves off in the lake. It was nice, sort of like running around in the summer rain, only much warmer. I get dressed in a navy blue t-shirt and a pair of long, khaki-colored pants, and try and fix my hair a bit. _Damn curls. _They're such a hassle.

I lied down on my bed, not sure of what to do next. My eyes closed on their own, as sleep tried its best to overtake me. It wasn't even sundown yet, but I felt as if I'd been awake for days. Despite my tired feeling, I couldn't manage to fall asleep, so I just stayed there in, indulging in the sweet silence. My quiet peace was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door of my room. I groggily sat up, opening the door to the bright face of Lizmet Skimly, the escort of the District 9 tributes. Her buttercup yellow skin and high-pitched voice never ceased to surprise me. It apparently was time for dinner.

We walked through the train, arriving in the dining room. The walls were decorated with portraits of past victors–which considering this was the District 9 train, and we've only won the games a few times, there weren't many portraits–and several immaculate tapestries. Wait, _what the hell am I noticing the tapestries for? _There was a spread of food in front of me, full of dishes I've never even seen before. I sat down at the table, trying my best to hold myself back from inhaling the entire table. I waited for my mentors and the other tribute to sit down at the table.

I hadn't really noticed her much before, but the girl tribute was quite pretty. I vaguely remembered her name. It was Atalia Cadew or something. She smiled eagerly at me, obviously ready to make my acquaintance.

"Hi! You're... you're Harry Styles, right?" she asked.

I replied with a quick "Yes," and shot her a charming smile. Her eyes widened and she smiled even larger. You're getting fattened up with rich foods, like a pig for slaughter, and all you want to do is smile and bat your eyelashes at me? A bit silly, isn't it, Atalia? It's fun to watch her reactions as we make small talk, though. She's apparently seen me around school, and always thought I was interesting. I nod back, although I honestly don't remember seeing her before today. I look down at the table, where a bowl of some rich, cream-based soup has been placed in front of me.

I take a spoonful of the soup, and quickly devour the rest. The mentors glance over at me awkwardly, but Lizmet is the first to speak up.

"Wow, Harry, mighty hungry there, weren't you?" she chirped. I nodded, a bit annoyed at her condescending tone. _I haven't eaten a full meal in a week or two, miss. Leave me alone. _She smiled and took another spoonful of her soup. "Fantastic!"

After a few minutes, several more courses of dinner were at my disposal. Lamb. Mashed potatoes. Peas and carrots. Many other foods I've only heard of, but never gotten the chance to enjoy. Finally, we finished it off with an odd chocolate cake, filled with molten chocolate on the inside. It was all so decadent, my stomach was full to the burst.

Following the dinner, Lizmet ushers us all to another compartment, where we watch the broadcasting of the reapings from all over Panem. District 12, they look like they may actually have a shot this year. They've got this dark, rugged sort of boy, he looks like he could do some damage. District 8 has this pretty, quiet girl, Mariska. She's the cousin of the other tribute, this tall, wiry brunette boy named Louis. I space out through a few more of the districts, only to snap out of it during District 3's reaping. The screen shows a blonde boy, waving eagerly to the crowd as he eagerly shakes the hand of the female tribute. How could he look be so happy? Finally, we came to the reapings of Districts 2 and 1. Along with District 4, they made up the Careers. I sighed quietly.

These were going to be the people that killed me. They're usually trained for the Hunger Games since they could pick up a spear or shoot an arrow. I grimaced as a muscular, brown-haired boy shows up on the stage in District 1. He grins proudly, obviously finding his tribute status to be an honor.

"Good!" Lizmet exclaimed for no particular reason as the reapings wrapped up. She's always so perky. "Anyways, we'll be arriving in the Capitol tomorrow morning. You both better go off to sleep, now." Atalia and I left the compartment, went into the corridor and parted ways. Thank goodness, I'm glad to get away from her, she was a bit smothering. She kept glancing over at me when we were watching the reapings.

I went into my bedroom and stripped down to my boxers, slipping into the sheets underneath the down comforter of my bed. I inhaled the scent of the clean sheets, trying to keep my mind off of my mother and sister. What were they doing right now? No. _Stop. _I couldn't bear to think of home, even if I was there only a few hours ago, it felt like an entirely different universe.

The silence of the room overtook me, it felt too eerie. I quietly began to sing to myself, feeling a bit calmed down as the night grew darker and darker. After an hour or so, I drifted off into another realm known as sleep. My slumber was composed of several sporadic, scary dreams. My mother and sister watching as I got killed in the arena. Running towards the Cornucopia and taking an arrow to the back. Coming face to face with that boy from District 1, as he points his spear towards my chest.

After that last dream, I woke up abruptly. It was morning time, and I was in the Capitol. _The Capitol._ I could tell already, this was going to be one hell of a day.


	3. Chapter 2: Capitol

_POV: Louis  
><em>

"Ladies first..." I remember Kruso Petra's normally quiet voice turning into a booming echo as he the tributes at the reaping yesterday afternoon. "Mariska Tomlinson!" I had gaped as my little cousin made her way through the crowd of 13-year-olds. _No. No. No._ And the shock grew as they called the male tribute up... me_. "Louis Tomlinson!" _The words echo in my head, even to this moment.

My legs trembled as I walked up onto the stage, the eyes of all of District 8 focused on me."Oh! Looks like we've got a pair of siblings in the Games this year!" Kruso exclaimed, clapping his chubby hands together. "Cousins." I quietly revised him. "Cousins!" Kruso corrected himself. The crowd applauded halfheartedly. I knew that they didn't want to see Mariska or I in the Hunger Games, but the constant watching of the Peacekeepers ensured that they had to show at least some enthusiasm.

Mariska's mom, Laina, came up to me in the Justice Building, tremoring with sobs. "Keep her alive, as much as you can, Louis." She grabbed my shoulders and shook me back and forth. "YOU HAVE TO." she raised her voice, practically screeching. "YOU CAN'T LET HER DIE." The Peacekeepers began to walk over, ready to take her away. "My baby, my baby..." she murmured between crying wails, as the Peacekeepers pulled her away from me.

I kept my poker face on, trying to show no emotion, all the way until we arrived on the tribute train. Mariska was terrified, and I know I am too. We spent time together in her room, right down the corridor from mine. I tried my best to comfort her, with words, with hugs, but it was no use. She could barely form coherent words, let alone calm down enough to try and have a conversation with me. I went to the dining car and asked if we could both eat dinner in her room, which the mentors surprisingly agreed to. They pitied Mariska, I'm sure. She was known around the district for her kind personality and hard work ethic, since she's labored in the textile factories since she turned eight.

We ate there, sitting on her bed, the only noise occupying the room being her quiet cries. Maybe silence is all she needs right now. Suddenly, she cleared her throat and spoke up.

"Louis. When I die–" she began to say.

I shushed her and smiled. "Don't talk like that, Riska. You're not gonna die."

She rolled her eyes. "Louis, don't be stupid, I know I'm going to. If you win, make sure that my mom and dad are okay. Okay? That's all I really ask."

I responded with silence. I wanted to stay hopeful, to pretend that this was all going to be okay, that neither of us will die. Like this is just one giant nightmare, one that we'll both wake up from before it's too late. We'll wake up, back in District 8, watching the Hunger Games from our own homes, not worrying about whether we'll die or not. _But I know I'm not dreaming._ After a few moments, I nodded back. "Okay."

She gave me a small, thoughtful smile. "Thank you."

We finished up our food and talked strategy for a few hours, before falling asleep. I felt a little more at peace, knowing Mariska and I could count on eachother. Our alliance cannot be broken, and together, maybe we could survive. Tomlinsons stick together, forever and always.

* * *

><p>And that brings us to today. I woke up early, leaving Mariska to sleep a little bit longer, then I went into my own room to take a shower and clean up. The train rolled into the Capitol's station later that morning, and I looked outside my window in wonder. <em>The Capitol.<em> Even though this city held the power that kept my district oppressed and kept the Games going every year, you've got to admit, it's crazy beautiful, in kind of a twisted way. My amazement was cut short as Kruso knocked on the door and ushered me off the train. The next few minutes became a whirlwind of people, as thousands of Capitol citizens waited outside of the station, trying to catch a glimpse of the tributes. I waved and tried to make nice, as security and Peacekeepers ushered Mariska and I into some sort of automobile, headed to God knows where.

We traveled through the city streets, tall buildings and bright lights surrounding us on every side. The majority of the screens outside of buildings replayed coverage of the reapings, and I saw my face show up on the projections several times. On the streets, I watched various people walking, with skin colors, hair colors, fashions of all kinds. Green skinned women with tall, snow-colored hair walked together in groups. Several men with golden, glittering tattoos on their faces stopped and stared at our vehicle as we passed. I even witnessed a woman... man... manlady, with talon-like structures on its fingers. The whole drive was entirely surreal. Finally, we arrived in front of a tall building. Quickly, Mariska and I were led into the lobby of the area and separated in different directions. _What the hell is happening? Mariska? _I tried waving to her as she was walking away, but it was no use.

In mere seconds, we were in an elevator, headed upwards. The elevator doors opened up to a small, beige painted hallway, and my entourage of unfamiliar guards rushed me towards a room at the end of the hall. The door abruptly opened, and small lavender purple hand grabbed my hand and pulled me in. The security guards left, their job done, and I heard the small click of the door locking behind me. The room was decorated with portraits of more strange-looking women and men, with odd-shaped furniture and funky colors. I walked towards what looked like a chair and sat down, looking around for the purple figure that I thought I had seen.

"Hi!" a high-pitched voice chirped, and I looked to my right. The voice belonged to a petite woman dressed in outrageously bright, sparkling clothing. "Wow oh wow, we've got a looker this year! Yay! Last year, we had the most _horrendous _looking boy I've ever seen, honestly."

I grinned, flattered by her compliment, but still confused by who she even was. She must have picked up on my expression.

"Ah, that's right! I'm Swimrose, and I'm part of your prep team today! Rielo is just in the other room, let me go grab him." She proceeded to walk through the neon green door on the right side of the room and promptly come back, this time followed by a tall, lanky man with pale orange skin and bright blonde hair. He waved at me.

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Lewis, right? Well, Lewis, you're just fablewis!"

"It's Lou-ee, actually," I replied, hopefully sounding excited, while trying not to groan at his pun. I like a sense of humor and all, but that was just lame.

"Oh, tomato, to-mah-to," Rielo replied, brushing off my correction, before he and Swimrose pulled two chairs towards the one that I was sitting at, ready to examine me. "Nice build, pretty tall," he approved while he lifted my bangs out of my face. "Good eyes... you're not too bad, Louis. You just need a hair cut, seriously, how can you see with all this hair in your face?" Swimrose nodded eagerly, standing up and grabbing a pair of scissors from the vanity behind me.

The next hour following my haircut was spent scrubbing my skin–I believe Rielo liked my body a little too much–cleaning me up, putting some of this odd, translucent powder all over my face ("You've got great skin, but you just need a little something." Swimrose had explained.), and finally, drying my hair and styling it.

The odd pair stepped back and admired their handiwork. "You. Look. Fantastic!" Swimrose squealed, as she turned me towards the mirror so I could see. Wow, I had to admit, I cleaned up nice. I really didn't care about my appearance back in District 8, but I guess that appearances really matter here. I smiled, happy with what I saw. "I do look damn cool, don't I?"

Swimrose and Rielo grinned wider than before, clapping their hands together in enthusiasm. "Well, I guess it's time for Twila to have her way with you." Swimrose declared.

What? _Have her way with me? _Am I the only one that thought that sounded highly sexual? Last time I checked, I didn't think prostitution was a part of training for the Games. But oh, I guess if it helps me win...

Rielo laughed. "Oh, silly boy, not like that!" I internally gave a sigh of relief. "She's your stylist! You have to look fantastic for the Opening Ceremony tonight, of course!" The door opened and a snow-white skinned, stout woman dressed in a black skirt and matching top walked in. The two ran to hug her, but she pushed them away. Her expression looked grim. She gave me a quick once-over.

"Too tan, weird smile, squinty eyes, too thin..." she began to cut my self-esteem down to nothing, pointing out every single flaw that I had. Wow, thanks lady. Swimrose gave me an apologetic look, but Rielo was the first to stop her. "Twila, please. Remember the boy from last year? At least Louis looks better than him."

Twila proceeded to give him a look that could possibly freeze Hell over. "Fine. Louis. Let's get started. First, we're going to need some gray, shimmering eyeliner, some black face paint, and a better outfit. Give me something classy and elegant." And just like that, Swimrose and Rielo were off, following Twila's commands to a T. I sighed quietly. This was going to be a long, _long_ process.

* * *

><p>For the second time that afternoon, Rielo and Swimrose stood back and squealed enthusiastically. Twila kept her stone-cold expression, but even I could see a hint of happiness behind her gray eyes. I looked... weird. But, I suppose to the Capitol people, I look charming. Black and gray swirls framed the outside of my face, trailing down my neck. I wore a simple white buttondown with a black vest, and black dress pants. My hair was slightly spiked. After a moment of appreciation, we set off, out of the room, down to the lobby. The Opening Ceremonies were about to begin, and there's no turning back now.<p> 


End file.
